Fading Red
by HiM'e'iTSu
Summary: What if...? What if one day shinigami Grell Sutcliff lost his memory, completely forgetting his work, his life, his nature...
1. Fading Red

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kuroshitsuji

**Beta:** Kuromu96 (Lune De Marionette)

**A/N:** This was supposed to be a oneshot, but after some readers asked me to continue I got an interesting idea and decided to continue writing. So this story is just me wondering what would have happened if Grell lost his memory.

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**_Fading Red_**

A little dirty room in London police office was quiet. The room was simple, dark brown walls with similar coloured wooden flooring, sparsely decorated. There was only one person in the room, sitting in a stiff wooden chair in front of an oversized desk. William stood in the doorway watching him. Long red hair, wet from the downpour of rain outside, plastered to the sides of the man's face partially covering it, lithe figure slumped in the uncomfortable chair, his hands hanging lifelessly from only way that William really knew that the figure was actually living was the soft, rattling breaths he took in every few seconds. The being before him lacked every little detail that was normal for Grell Sutcliff.

William had trouble recognizing long haired shinigami he knew in this scared empty being;that spark, that zeal for life and the bloodlust that was always palpable in his gaze was now gone.

"So you do know him, sir?" asked a police officer, the one that had brought William to the department in the first place.

The dark haired shinigami nodded. He couldn't tear his yellow green eyes from a man who should be Grell Sutcliff, because whatever had happened to him to make the man act this way, that name didn't suit this person any more. Grell was an airheaded, absent minded, cheerful and blood thirsty shinigami whose only purpose in life was to annoy William and find troubles wherever he went. This though…

"We found him yesterday night on the street behind former Phantomhive residence in London." The police officer explained, taking William's silence as his acknowledgement of the situation. "He must have gotten into a fight of some kind. Seems he lost his memory. He couldn't even remember his name and we can't find it…"

"Grell Sutcliff." William informed the policeman without looking at him.

His voice sounded harsh even to his own ears resonating in the silence. The one that he refused to acknowledge as Grell gave an uncontrolled shudder at the sound, his gaze dead as he stared in front of him.

"Good. Now we can inform his family."

"No need to. I'll take care of it." William's business-like manner of speech was persuasive enough to close the topic.

The police officer mumbled some sympathetic words which dark haired shinigami considered unimportant, so he dismissed the man with a slight wave of his hand. William was left alone with the scared figure in the room. Grell Sutcliff was terrified of William T. Spears. It sounded more like a bad joke than reality. William took a step inside; his polished boots clicked loudly in the dead silence of the room. The red haired man shuddered once more, his hands gripping the armrests tightly.

"Grell Sutcliff." The dark haired shinigami repeated the name, now like address.

Red hair fell back, revealing a sickly pale face with a set of worried eyes; the man tiredly lifted his head to look at the visitor. William didn't like the feeling of being watched, scrutinized and assessed how dangerous he might be to this red headed man. Vulnerability radiated from his slumped figure, incredibly obvious from the way his fingers wouldn't stop unconsciously scratching wooden armrests, even from the way long red messed tresses fell to the floor in random pattern.

"Is that your name?" Lips moved but scratchy voice didn't match the one William remembered.

"It's _your_ name." William answered; he couldn't reign in the harsh, angered tint to his voice. It angered him. He was infuriated to see that Grell couldn't recognize him, not even a spark of recognition in his eyes.

This whole situation starting from the unexpected call to his office from the London police Department (Grell always had his number in a front pocket of his infuriating red coat in case he needed help – not that William was ever going to provide it) to the moment he entered this little silent room, was starting to get on his nerves. Suddenly he found himself loosing his calm. Such an easy task given him by his boss: to see if Grell Sutcliff was still competent for his job after the incident, was affecting him more than it should.

"Oh…" the red haired man breathed out, his expression not changing, and resumed staring. "Who are you, then?"

Yellow green eyes, not protected by red framed glasses, glanced up at him with a wary look.

"William T. Spears." Dark haired shinigami answered sternly.

It was reckless to give his real name since Grell obviously didn't remember it. There was no need to reveal your identity to a stranger especially if you were a shinigami. That was all Grell was now to him – just a stranger.

"Why are you here?"

More than likely not sensing any danger from the man, Grell seemed more confident in his speech, his voice a bit louder and less wavering. He sat straight, mustering as much dignity as he could, both hands still trembling but not clutching the armrests of the chair as they were before. With easy shake of his head Grell shook his soaked long red hair from his face. William's eyes instantly fell on a long cut on left side of his face going from his temple, stretching down along the side of his face and stopping inch under his pointy chin. It was still fresh, the outside of the cut coloured a deep red, looking like it still hurt a great deal. It would take long to heal, and even more without any help and care which Grell wouldn't have. Understanding where William was staring the red haired man brought right hand to trace the wound. He winced as he put too much pressure to the sensitive patch of skin around it and smiled apologetically.

"What brings you here?"

He was diffident with voice sounding so small, thought William.

"Just an inspection." Dark haired shinigami answered adjusting his glasses. Doing thatwith his hand instead of sharp weapon felt unnatural to him.

Even before coming to the police station, William had decided that he'd first see how much Grell remembered and, in case his condition let him continue soul reaping he'd then reveal his true purpose of the visit. But Grell didn't seem to remember…he had no clue about shinigami work, about his own nature. William concluded there was no need to fill his empty head with supernatural information. Human life would take over and he'd never remember nights full of bloodshed and insane laughter. Hence, a story about inspection should be enough.

"Hm…Why here?" Grell's question was random but filled with true curiosity.

"I'm inspecting all departments in this area. This one was next on my list."

"There is a list?" Yet again there was genuine interest in irrelevant detail.

"Yes." William answered patiently.

"Oh…"

With every question answered so calmly Grell became more relaxed. He got used to the other man's presence. Fear didn't show through in his eyes, and his hands came to rest on his lap, playing with the hem of red sleeve.

"The police found you yesterday. You have amnesia, permanent it seems. Am I right?" William's voice was completely business-like, his voice stiff and his passionless eyes staring back at Grell.

The red haired man nodded reluctantly. They watched each other for at least five minutes in silence, William observing and Grell building courage to ask his next question. When he felt he was brave enough he discarded the idea and instead stood up and took a slow step to William. He looked weak, his always slim body now seemed fragile, he was shaking a little, of cold fear or weakness William couldn't tell. With a trembling hand, knuckles bruised and fingernails dirty, Grell reached up and touched other man's glasses.

"Hm…" He hummed as he experimentally pulled at the rim and they easily slipped from Williams face into Grell's scratched palm. The red haired man rolled them in his hands, same genuine curiosity lighting his eyes.

"Don't you want to ask me if I know who you are?" William wasn't sure why he said that. More and more he felt uncertain in his actions like he was wandering in the dark not knowing what waited him ahead.

"No. I don't think I want to." Grell mumbled, still fumbling with the glasses, looking at the only source of light through thin lenses, and then trying them on.

"Why?" William asked watching how the red haired man nodded to himself deciding he liked the glasses.

"I'm not sure I want to know." He turned around, spinning on the spot. William noticed many and many cuts on his pale skin and tears on red coat decorated by splashes of crimson. "See. This is not mine." His fingers slid over a spot of blood on the hemline. "Will it be alright not to remember who it belonged to?"

William noted how he purposely used past tense. He understood that the wound bleeding so much could be fatal. Knowing Grell, they were. William didn't let himself shudder at that thought.

"Does it bother you?" Dark haired shinigami asked when Grell stopped spinning, red whirlpool dying down before him. "The blood."

"Not really."

"Then what does?"

"The fact that it doesn't bother me."

William nodded. He though he understood what the other tried to say.

"What are you going to do now?"

"Live?" Grell looked at him questioningly as if waiting for confirmation.

A sound, only barely resembling a laugh, escaped William; a small unsure smile made its way to Grell's face, lighting his features a little, bringing back tiny resemblance to his past self.

"What are _you _going to do?" Red haired man asked and for a second his yellow green eyes twinkled.

This Grell, William thought, was so close to the one he knew before that morning in the police office. That would be like Grell Sutcliff to attempt to run away from reality, try to reject his nature and start everything from the beginning. But the contradiction was that the blood thirsty red reaper would never want to change what he was. It was so obvious from the satisfaction in Grell's crazy eyes every time he found new victim, his passion for a chainsaw with red handle and enthusiasm with which he descended to the human world to enjoy his next job.

"Leave." William answered half forgotten question.

Momentary Grell's smile fell and eyes looked sad through William's glasses, but it passed quickly, replaced by a grin of sharp teeth.

"Good."

"Is it?" William succumbed to his desire to ask.

"I…guess so." Grell sounded uncertain again.

Suddenly he took another step to William, the last one separating them – he wouldn't have to reach if he wanted to touch dark haired man's face. Grell titled his head to the right, red fringe falling over one eye and hiding the scared left cheek.

"Is it not good?"

"It is." William answered reaching a hand to adjust his glasses only in the last moment remembering they were still perched on the end of Grell's nose. Reaching with both hands he took them off carefully. Grell's eyes followed his movements with interest.

"Good then." Grell nodded.

William couldn't find a point in this conversation. He got a feeling that there was _a meaning_ behind those clueless questions and monosyllabic answers. But did the red haired man realize it himself?

"I had a dream." Grell suddenly murmured intruding into world of William's thoughts. "There was a lot of blood."

"Did it scare you?"

"No. Not at all…" He struggled with his answer. "It was…nice."

It couldn't be any other way, William though. Grell didn't look at him; his gaze went past the other man, distracted by shadows in the corners of the small room. The red haired man's mind was constantly working; processing the little bits of information he got from everything around him, reforming it and shaping it to form the basis of his new memories. It seemed he was trying to understand more about himself despite what he had asserted earlier.

"It's time for me to leave."

"Then leave." Grell replied simply looking his interlocutor in the eye.

"Good luck with your living, Grell." Dark haired shinigami wished him and, not waiting for any reaction, turned on his heels and left. No matter how fast his stride was he still heard a faint "Farewell, Mr. Spears." behind. It stung with sudden hurt the way he never expected it would. Indeed that was a final farewell to the Grell Sutcliff he knew.

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**A/N:** I'd really appreciate it if you leave me a review. With just a couple of words you can make a person happy:)

Also, please read an A/N in the next chapter.


	2. New Friends, Old Friends

**A/N: **After so many people asked for a continuation of this story I finally snapped under the pressure and wrote this. I have to admit I didn't want to, because I considered it finished the way it was. But after one reader suggested an idea, I thought about it and came up with a different idea of continuation, though I used some of what that person had in mind. So I guess you have to thank Fantasy-Phantom101 and Riven1313 for the fact that thins story became a multi-chaptered fanfic. If you are going to like it, that is. I hope you do

**Please read this note:**

1. Also I kept the whole mood of the story dark, even thought there are lighter moments.

2. And I also united **Fading Red** with my other story **I was a human once** which is my view of Grell's background. Since there is not much information about shinigami world in anime and probably in manga as well, so I took a liberty of inventing a lot of things on my own. Also this story evolves around the idea that some people after death become shinigami. I was a human once is a very dark story so if you don't want to read I'll explain what is essential for this story in later chapters.

3. If I understand correctly Ronald uses honorific when he addresses Grell, but it wouls not have fit in the story, so here he just calls William and Grell by their names.

4. This story is **finished**. Five chapters on the whole. They only need to be edited.

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**_ Chapter 2_**

**_New Friends, Old Friends._**

Warm sunshine, golden and bright from the warm summer sun streamed through the glass window, dissipating the shadows of a small room, reflecting from a silvery surface of a mirror. The mirror hung on the wall by the window; a man, an only occupant of the room, stood before it.

A thoughtful frown twisted his tired features, making dark circles under the tired yellow green eyes stand out even more as a contrast to sickly pale skin. Grell scrutinized his own reflection, noting all the flaws and wondering if they've been there all the time or if it was just the result of recent events. With one hand he reached back to untie a bow holding his hair in place, letting it fall freely, then with a sharp shake of his head made it lie on one side of his face. His eyes traveled the whole length, trying to recall if it ever had this red brown shade the evening before. Something about his hair felt off, like the color was too dull, too boring. He shrugged it off, putting the blame on the change of light.

With one hand Grell reached to the mirror, fingertips tracing slowly the counters of the reflection's face. Was it how he always looked like? Bloody scratches marred his features and he vainly hoped that they'd disappear soon. The red rimmed glasses he wore that were accented with a chain of black skulls were beautiful, and for a moment he curiously thought what sort of person would wear such a thing? What sort of person he was? Grell blinked as the middle finger of his right hand slid over one eye and he licked his chapped lips when his hand came to rest upon the reflection's mouth.

Suddenly swept by a feeling that it was wrong, everything was _wrong_, he drew his hand back and turned on his heels sharply in a fit of causeless anger. His eyes swept around the room, plain and very far from what he'd call comfortable but it was all he had. After the man under a name William T. Spears had left, Grell was subjected to one more questioning and then took to this place. Four days passed since then and he did not leave the place unless there was an actual necessity for that. He was allowed to live in the small room, at least until the police would be able to find out what had happened to him. The floor was made** of** an old scratched wood and the walls were painted in a light color, the window frames rotten to the point where it was impossible to completely close the window, white transparent curtains decorated them. There was one bed, a table and a chair before it, with a half burned candle on the tabletop.

Everything was so _boring_.

Grell took off his red coat and thrown it carelessly on the bed, adding a splash of color to the dull surroundings. With a quick step and a sharp spin he flopped face up on the covers beside the red cloth and threw both his hand up in the air.

"Grell Sutcliff," he pronounced his own name in a dramatic whisper. He liked that name, had no troubles believing it belonged to him. His own wonderful name. It seemed it was the only thing he owned at that moment.

Grell grinned, letting his hand fall on either side of his head. It was not much, but it'd do. For a start.

**FR**

It was a busy day for William's department; shinigami came in to hand down the reports and returned to the field immediately. There was some kind of an accident in the London suburbs, big enough to give work to a whole department but not important enough to make William leave his office.

He picked up yet another report and read through it briefly, yet his mind didn't catch the meaning of the words. Without William's permission his thoughts wandered to his red haired co-worker. Ex-co-worker, he reminded himself sternly, returning to the report. It was written in neat handwriting, every word precise, without any unneeded additional information. So unlike Grell's late reports, when he even bothered to write one.

Letting out a groan, a small outward sign of his distress, William put the document back on the desktop. He leaned back in his chair and threw his head back closing his eyes. He felt like an idiot. And William T. Spears had never felt like an idiot. Even on his first day as a shinigami he acted professionally and, haven learned all the rules by heart, impressed his seniors into taking him seriously from the start. Now though…

Such a stupid incident like his junior losing memory unsettled William. But, the dark haired shinigami admitted, it was not just a mere junior. It was Grell Sutcliff, the most annoying and intrusive person William had ever had the misfortune to meet. There was no one like that. And now, without the red haired shinigami bursting into his office at the most inconvenient moments, he decided maybe it was not a _bad _kind of special. Maybe Grell actually was special in a _good_ way. Maybe William missed him…

He didn't get to finish that thought, which probably was better for his sanity, because the door burst open and another annoying shinigami entered the office.

"Ronald Knox, I thought I sent you on a mission an hour ago." William said, taking the document again and returning to his working mood.

"Done!" Ronald replied cheerfully. "I'll hand down the report later."

"Good," the dark haired shinigami looked at him over the rim of his glasses. "Then why are you here?"

"Well…" Ronald hesitated. "Have you seen Grell lately?"

William stared at his subordinate impassively while his mind searched for a better answer. About what had happened to Grell Sutcliff knew only William and his boss who sent him investigate the matter, it was not a secret, it's just that no one bothered to inform the others. The dark haired shinigami hoped that he would not have to talk to Grell's co-workers about it, hoped they'd assume something on their own. After all shinigami were so similar to humans in that sense, they used their imagination too much and sometimes came up with unbelievable stories when the truth was plane and simple. William wished that this time someone would just start a rumor of Grell's promotion or demotion, which was more likely, or at least a transfer. He was not that lucky.

While William was lost in thought Ronald went on with his rambling:

"I mean, he didn't appear for almost a week. I though you sent him on a prolonged mission, but then I asked the girls in General Affairs and they said that there were no long missions for him. Actually he had not been working for some time now. I understand that this is not exactly worrisome because Grell digresses often but then he at least appears in the office. If not to work then to see you. I mean, you know how he likes bickering with you…"

"Ronald," William intervened into what was going to be an endless rant. He considered somehow softening the blow for the blond since he was rather fond of the red haired shinigami. "Grell Sutcliff doesn't work as a shinigami any more."

Well, probably William wasn't good in the whole 'softening the blow' thing. At least it helped to stop Ronald, he was rendered speechless.

"What do you mean by that, William?" He recovered quickly and asked good naturedly, obviously thinking he had misunderstood.

"I meant what I said. Grell Sutcliff is not a shinigami anymore." The dark haired man answered, maybe a little too harsh. "I'd appreciate it if you inform his co-workers so that they won't come asking any more questions."

"But how?" The blond stammered, shaking his right hand in the air as if to dispel what William had told him.

"That is not your business. And if you excuse me, I've got work to do." William returned to reading reports.

Dismissed, Ronald stood in the middle of his boss's office, shocked and a little bit angry for being left in the dark. But he understood that prying this information out of William would be impossible, so he left but not for long. His work for the day was over but he lingered at his workplace, chatting with other shinigami and keeping a close look on his boss's office. An hour later William had left to do some soul reaping for his own.

Using his chance Ronald sneaked into the office, not as secretly as he hoped because one of the girls stopped him on his way to the door offering some tea and he just couldn't reject the offer. So half an hour later he renewed his try, with more success fortunately.

Mindful of his every step and careful not to bump into anything, he rushed to William's desk and started looking through all the documents he could reach. Reports, reports and nothing resembling anything that could tell him about Grell's fate. After fifteen minutes of ineffectual search Ronald abandoned caution and started throwing to the floor papers he had looked through and opening drawers. In the first drawer on the right he finally stumbled over something interesting; it was yet another report but this one was written by his boss, which meant that William had personally dealt with this particular case.

Ronald looked around, listened to the sounds outside in the corridor to ensure that no one was coming and read through the report quickly. His breathing quickened and he stood frozen on the spot as his brain registered the meaning behind cold words written in the neat writing of William T. Spears.

Composing himself the blond re-read the document and memorized the address in the end before putting it back in the drawer, organizing the files back into somewhat neat pile and fled.

It didn't take long for him to find a needed street and then the house, the main problem was, what he was going to say when he saw Grell.

'_Memory loss'_ was stated in William's report.

'_Not compatible for continuing working as a shinigami.'_

'_Recommended to leave Grell Sutcliff lead a life of a human. Re-teaching is too complicated and not worth the effort.'_

The whole report was full of cold hearted comments on Grell's condition and even though for the outsider William seemed a not caring bastard, those who worked with him knew it was not the truth. Even though the dark haired shinigami claimed otherwise the entire department knew he cared for Grell.

Ronald took a deep calming breath and knocked three times on the wooden door. Everything was silent and then sounds of soft footsteps were heard and the door opened inside with a creak. Grell Sutcliff appeared in the doorway, leaning on the doorframe heavily. He looked tired, face pale and dark circles under his eyes; a long cut was still visible on the left side of his face, already healing but still painful; yellow green eyes stared at Ronald with worry, assessing him.

"Hello?" Grell said a little uncertainly, hand clutching the door. It looked like he could slam it into Ronald's face any second.

"Hi," Ronald greeted cheerfully. "I take it, you don't remember me?"

"Should I?" The red haired man asked, titling his head to the side.

"We worked together. Well, seems like you really lost your memory, Grell."

Grell stared at the blond on his threshold, contemplating if he should let him in. The blond didn't look menacing or dangerous, quite on the contrary his smile was nice and friendly and his eyes looked at Grell with curiosity.

"So, I came for a visit!" Ronald exclaimed happily.

Grell eyed him with suspicion and then stepped aside letting the other in. Ronald's eyes roamed around a small room, or maybe a flat depending on which term you prefer, because in Grell's case it was one and the same. Without asking for permission he occupied the only chair, leaving the other sit on the bed.

"You said we worked together…?"

"Oh, yes. You are a great mentor, Grell. Since I'm so young and inexperienced you helped me to get used to this work and blend in with the other…workers."

"That's nice," Grell replied with a smile – an echo of his old wide grins.

And so Ronald proceeded to describe what a wonderful person Grell was and how well they get on, letting out all the detail that can give the ex-shinigami any idea about the nature of that work. All the wile the blond studied this new Grell Sutcliff. He was thinner then Ronald remembered, but that might be the cause of another fashionable diet, skin was a green pale with sick tints of blue, a scar which attracted Ronald's attention earlier stretched over left side of his face as an ugly red line. Grell's eyes seemed to loose their brightness, they were not bubbling with life and excitement any more. His hair hung messily, the color dull. It was disturbing to see someone who worried about their looks like Grell did in such a state.

Ronald straightened in his chair, playfulness lacing his every move gone as if it never existed. Grell watched him warily, bothering his bottom lip between pointy teeth to the point when it broke and a small trail of blood escaped.

"You know, if you need any help, you can always ask me." Ronald said, leaning forward and staring in the other's eyes, trying to express with all his being that Grell could trust him.

It worked as the red head relaxed, let out a barely noticeable sigh of relief and nodded.

"Thank you. I guess we really are friends."

"Of course we are!" Ronald said with a chuckle, getting comfortable in his chair again. A serious moment passed and they returned to chatting.

Grell sat on his bed, legs tucked under his thin frame and smiled at the story Ronald was telling. It was nice. He was grateful to this man, who appeared out from nowhere claiming they were good friends and brought liveliness to his new live. Grell was bored out of his mind, and he had stayed alone in this small room for only a couple of days. He didn't want to go outside, the world behind these four walls weird and a little bit frightening because right now he had no idea how it worked. Fortunately, his memory was not destroyed completely, he remembered the routine, was capable of taking care of himself, but that did not mean he didn't feel like the biggest part of _him _was missing. But this chatty blond belonged to _that_ part, the one he didn't remember. The one he wasn't sure he wanted to remember.

For the first time Grell went to sleep after the accident that caused the memory loss, his dreams were full of what most people would consider horrible nightmares. There was blood, corpses of men and women, fire and screams; Grell only found it enticing. He wanted to see more, but the rational part of him constantly reminded him that it was not normal. Grell felt like two different natures contradicted inside his being. Both of the contradicting parts though found the outer world, which let something bad happen to him. And both parts felt incredibly lonely. Grell longed for company.

"Grell? Grell?" Ronald's concerned voice brought the red head back from his musings. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Grell replied with a smile. "Sorry, I spaced out for a moment. You were saying…?"

"Do you want to go for a walk?"

"No," the red head answered quickly. "I'm not…Maybe some another time."

"Fine," Ronald shrugged and proceeded to tell another story.

"Ronald," Grell interrupted.

"Hmm?"

"Well…" Grell didn't know how to express the strange idea that suddenly occurred to him. He just glanced at his interlocutor and realized that his attire was an absolute replica of the man who talked to the red head in the police. "Your suit. Is that some kind of a uniform?"

"Yes," Ronald replied pleasantly. "You like it?"

"Too boring for my taste. But that's not the matter," Grell took a few minutes to put his thoughts into words. "The man who came to see me at the police was wearing the same suit. If I remember correctly, his name was Will."

"William?" Ronald echoed before he could think. Really, it should not have surprised him this much. That was only expected since the fact that the dark haired shinigami met Grell after the accident was obvious from his report.

"Yes, William." Grell nodded in conformation.

"Well…" Ronald trailed. He couldn't understand if he was getting in trouble by involving his boss in this. "He works with me as well."

Grell nodded again but didn't ask for any more.

"How is he?" He asked instead, surprising the blond with another unexpected question. Sometimes no one, even Grell himself, could not predict how his mind worked.

"Fine?" It sounded more like a question then a statement and both men understood it. "Fine, I guess."

"Tell me more about him." The red head commanded, his voice strong and not leaving any space for objections.

"What do you want to know?" Ronald was cautious with the direction their conversation was taking.

Grell looked up at the ceiling and brought fingers of his right hand to his mouth, deep in thoughts.

"What is the color of his eyes?"

"Haven't you met him?"

"I don't remember."

Ronald stared at his friend over the rim of his glasses as he considered the statement. Something seemed off.

"You don't? But it was not very long ago."

"So?" Grell shrugged. "I don't remember. Will you tell me?"

Grell stared back at him, his dull eyes gazing right into Ronald's. How can he not remember the color of William's eyes when he practically looked into them? All the shinigami had the same eye color, even Grell himself.

"They are green," Ronald answered not specifying the shade.

Grell looked away again, probably imagining. Then he sighed happily and turned back to the blond.

"Just as I thought." He replied.

And they were back to mindless chatting as if the color of his eyes was the most important thing about William. Sometimes, Grell didn't make any sense at all.

When it was already too dark and Grell reached to light up a candle, Ronald decided that it was time for him to leave. He promised to visit his friend again. As the door closed behind him the blond also made a mental not to talk to William.

**FR**

It was half past nine in the evening and William left work early. It was absolutely unreasonable, he understood, but also unintentional. Without a plan in mind, he turned up on a street where, the policeman informed him, Grell was found. It was a dark narrow alley, one of the many, light from the street lamps didn't reach it, but the pale glow of the moon in the cloudless sky was enough for William's eyes.

Reason told the shinigami that there was no use in coming here and looking for remaining clues that would tell him what had happened to Grell; four days had passed and the traces of everyday life must have erased any remains of a fight in which the red haired man intervened, probably even started.

William looked around, also aware that he was not a simple policeman, he was a shinigami and there were traced that only he would be able to find. Not on the bricks of stone under his feet, not on the dirty walls of buildings surrounding him – it the air, invisible to human's eyes. It was a subtle mark of energy which lingered where magic was used. The point where it felt stronger was right behind him, indicating a place where the shinigami appeared out of the thin air, but he needed to concentrate on weaker sources.

William knew Grell's signature by heart, having felt it close up for more times then he actually wanted it. It was bright, suppressing others, like the shinigami's presence always overpowered his colleagues'; when William breathed it in, there was no scent but it felt like million tiny sparkles caressed your insides, immediately attracting one's attention to itself. It was in the alley as well, barely visible but persistent even after days.

The dark haired shinigami took two precise steps forward, fixed his gasses with a habitual gesture, closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling and sorting out. Grell was there, so far so obvious, and someone else. And if the red head's energy felt like bright crimson, the other was a dark purple and maybe a tint of blue. Yellow green eyes opened, gaze hard and serious, and the shinigami made his way forward, exciting this alley and stepping into the other. The energy from before was just a presence, the fight, and there must have been one, took place further away.

William followed the reds and purples and soon they led him to a dead end. Dead end of the street but not the impromptu investigation. The black haired shinigami looked around, not seeing the dark lines of the houses or the glow of candles on the windowsills, straining to find twists and modulations in dying traces which would give him more information. Had Grell used his death scythe? What did his opponent had as a weapon?

He leveled his own scythe in one hand, twisting it absentmindedly as he pondered on the mystery. He nodded to himself as he managed to draw a few plausible conclusions from what he found of the energy.

After that William decided, it wouldn't hurt to look for 'human clues'. It was summer and, uncommon for London, sunny days stood out for the past week. Looking for any footprints was stupid, he knew, many people had walked this ground since that night, but the walls…they held an annual layer of mud, not many dared to touch it. William took a step closer, light from a window illuminating a piece of wall before him. There was nothing. Slowly and methodically the man made his way around the walls of the dead end. He stopped by the wall that was on his left as he entered and was the last left for his inspection. The blood strains decorated it's dull dirty surface. The pattern was random, like people who fought here moved erratically not considering next step. That was so like Grell, to mindlessly rush into trouble.

William raised right hand as if to touch crimson splashes but stopped himself before he fingers reached it. He had beaten up the red haired shinigami for many times, but he never felt repulsion to a sight of his blood. Anger and fear flooded his senses but only for a second as the stoic man didn't allow himself any more time of this incomprehensible weakness.

Haven done all he came to the alley for, William left without further thought. He returned back to work as there was nothing else to take his mind off Grell Sutcliff.

* * *

**A/N: **I'm very nervous, I want to know what you think about this story. I'm sorry if this doesn't meet your expectations but it the way I see a continuation of Fading Red. I'd love to know your opinion. Though.


	3. Changes

**A/N: **This chapter is named after a song by Three Doors Down, called Changes, because in my opinion it corresponds the mood of this chapter**.**

_Italics _represent memories and dreams, which actually are the same thing in this chapter.

Also as I said earlier, I used my older story, which describes the way Grell died (after which he became a shinigami) as a background for him. In that story Grell, as a human, had three sisters and a mother. He died in the fire. If you are not scared of some violence and blood better read **I was a human once** to understand it better.

_**Great thanks to those who reviewed the second chapter. Your wonderful comments make me very happy:)**_

**Warning: **some violence and blood.

* * *

_**Chapter 3**_

_**Changes**_

The sun had not set yet but Grell was already feeling exhausted. It seemed like whatever he did he always ended up tired and sleepy, even if he had spent a whole day laying sprawled lazily on his bed and watching the clouds move across blue sky outside the window. This vulnerability annoyed him; he wasn't used to being weak and helpless. At least when Ronald came, happily announcing their friendship, Grell was distracted from disturbing thoughts by the blonde's mindless chatter. But when he left, Grell was alone with his thoughts, his feelings and his dreams again.

The ex-shinigami didn't want to go to sleep because he knew what awaited him there. But there was no way resisting the exhaustion overtaking him, his eyelids were too heavy to keep them open and it was taking too much effort to stay awake. Loosing a battle with himself he succumbed to heavy sleep.

**FR**

That evening William found himself standing in the middle of the Shinigami library with an excited Ronald Knox at his side. In the morning the blond burst into his boss's office with more vigor then on the previous day and declared that he knew everything about what had happened to Grell. William had no reason to believe him, so he kept his calm, but after Ronald admitted to looking through _that _report and visiting Grell, the dark haired shinigami was too shocked to even threaten him with a severe punishment for breaking into his office. There was no other option but let Ronald join him in his own unofficial investigation.

William decided that his next step would be finding out what can affect a shinigami so strongly and make him loose his memory, hence the trip to the library. They were lucky and instead of countless volumes of books found a better source – the Undertaker was going through the rows of books calmly, sorting them and putting the volumes in their respective places.

"Hmm…Memory loss?" He trailed thoughtfully as Ronald explained the reason for their visit. "Interesting."

He didn't say anything else, and the silence stretched making two younger shinigami anxious with every second. They knew not to disturb him if they wanted to get any information at all, so both just stood, stances a little too rigid to be viewed as casual, their eyes not leaving a figure of the infamous reaper.

"And you don't know what happened to him?" The Undertaker asked finally, probably looking at William, but it was difficult to tell exactly with silvery bangs covering the man's eyes completely.

"No," the dark haired shinigami replied. "But it is obvious that someone else is involved in it."

He didn't add that this 'someone' was probably a demon, because he realized that it was his subjective opinion talking and he couldn't let it cloud his judgment. Even though it was pretty difficult to achieve.

"So you think someone else made him loose memory?"

"Maybe he just hit his head really hard?" Ronald made a guess.

He was ignored by both, and William answered the Undertaker's question:

"Probably."

"Do you have any idea who it might be?"

"I have my suspicions," William replied carefully. "But I don't have any proof so I hope you'll excuse me if I won't voice them. But I _did_ find traces of another being's energy on the crime scene."

"Oh…and what is the extent of the…damage?"

"Not that bad," it was Ronald who answered. He leaned on the book case and glanced at the two other shinigami, then shrugged. "Grell only doesn't remember anything that concerns the word of shinigami."

"And in other areas?" William asked.

"He's perfectly fine. Well, as fine as a person who had forgotten the major part of their life could be."

"That's quite amusing, don't you think?"

William and Ronald looked at each other and then turned their surprised glances at him.

"I mean, he forgets that he is a shinigami." The Undertaker clarified. "Obviously someone wanted him to _only_ forget _that_. Who would want such a thing, though?"

William's hand clenched into a fist on it's own accord and his gaze hardened.

"I have no idea," Ronald answered the question. "I'm more interested in what happens to Grell now."

"He becomes human." The Undertaker's answer sounded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Or is there anything else you are not saying?"

"He does not remember his life as a shinigami, but he _dreams_ about it," Ronald said seriously.

It reminded William of Grell's words to the police. Yes, he mentioned the dreams that time too. The Undertaker put a finger to his lips thoughtfully.

"Dreams of him being a shinigami, you say?"

**FR**

_There was a party going on in the large manor. Grell stood in the gardens looking up at the windows, alight with so many candles it seemed like the manor was on fire. But the shinigami knew that the fire wasn't planned that night, but the murder was. Screams were heard from the window on the third floor and Grell knew it belonged to the hostess of the party; he was there after her soul. With a quick movement he jumped up and right onto her windowsill. Through the transparent curtain he could still see the murdered – her husband, insane with jealousy to a point where he killed the one he loved. The red head waited, watching with eagerness as the man lifted a knife in his hand to end his own life. The shinigami watched it's way up and then so quickly forcefully down right into the man's heart and Grell's blood boiled with excitement._

**FR**

"Seems like his memories are trying to resurface," the Undertaker commented. "They are not destroyed, but buried deep in his consciousness. From time to time they come closer to the surface."

"So, we can help him remember?" Ronald asked hopefully.

"It's not that easy," the older shinigami replied. "You see, it's impossible to delete memories of a shinigami. Or any other being actually. You've seen the cinematic records, so you'll understand that to delete memories you'll have to erase them from the record and no other creature except shinigami has access to it. And even we only see it when the person is about to die. You see the contradiction there?"

William nodded, frowning at the Undertaker's words. It seemed like he was saying that Grell's memories had not disappeared completely, but that still did not mean that they could return the Grell they knew.

"So someone, who didn't know about all that, which allows us to claim that it was not the other shinigami, attempted to erase Grell's memories nonetheless. And they did, at some point, so deciding that it was a success this someone left. But he wasn't aware that the memories would return, at least for a short period of time."

"What do you mean by that?" Ronald asked confused. "If they return they stay, isn't it like that?"

"Oh, but it's a tiny bit more complicated than that."

**FR**

_He straightened his hand, spreading pale fingers and admiring the dark crimson gracing them. Clenching it in a fist and unclenching the fingers once again the man looked how it caused droplets of blood slide down his wrist and fall to the floor tapping when joining the pool of blood in the center of the room. _

"_Beautiful." The man breathed out as he lowered his yellow green eyes and watched a stream of red run to the right, made to do so by the roughness of the wooden floor of the poor house, returning to the source of it. _

"_Oh, dear." He cooed addressing to the thing lying on the floor._

_Lowering to his knees not bothered at all that his clothes soaked in red the moment they got in touch with the wooden surface, and bending a little as he looked straight in the lifeless eyes of his victim._

"_Oh, dear, aren't you happy? You're much better this way." He cupped her cold cheek in his hand, coloring it crimson, and caressed her almost lovingly._

"_Such a creature like you…" The man continued saying softly while his hand slid lower. "Such a dirty creature like you." His grip turned from gentle to rough and tightened around her throat. "You don't deserve to live."_

_A cruel chuckle escaped his lips and he pressed his hand more strongly, regretting he wasn't able to feel her pulse quicken, then slow down and stop completely. She was already dead, mercilessly killed, stubbed with a knife many times by his fabulously heartless madam. Yet that did not mean he couldn't play with the poor thing a little. Her soul still was somewhere near, so horrified…_

_Hm, she thought her suffering will stop after she dies? How stupid…though I wouldn't expect more from a human, the man thought as he let go of her throat, leaving bloody finger marks, and carefully traced her collarbone with the pad of his index finger. The skin was rough, he couldn't imagine anything more hideous, but the divine crimson brought the long lost beauty and purity back. Her once blonde hair turned dirty red, but to him it was the prettiest sight._

_He loved it. Loved their fear before the ineluctable death. Stupid creatures, those humans, not understanding he brought them salvation. The man had seen their memories, how could they think their pitiful lives were better then this? The dead girl lying on the floor at his feet also was a complete fool for putting so much fight against him and his madam. She didn't even have a little chance against a shinigami. Though, he liked it. He loved to repress their will, to beat them in strength and to see them die before his eyes, not able to defend their right to exist._

_He looked around the room; everything was painted dark crimson, few droplets straining the low ceiling._

_Such a glorious sight__…_

_The man closed his eyes, and an easy smile crept on his face as he let out a content sigh. For this satisfaction, for this excitement…he knew he had fallen low, so low…but it brought him up to the sweetest heaven._

_He was a true artist of death._

**FR**

"Could you please elaborate?" William asked after another silence stretched to a point where he couldn't take it anymore. He tried to be polite, but it was difficult to keep his calm with all the things rushing through his head.

"Of course," the Undertaker replied with a pleasant smile like they were discussing weather and not the life of Grell Sutcliff. "It's complicated, but I'll try to explain. The moment that someone attempted to erase Grell's memories of his shinigami life he put a start to a very difficult process. Of course if the attempt was unsuccessful it wouldn't have worked, but this person obviously was very powerful, so…"

The silver haired shinigami sighed and kept silent for a couple of moments.

"He did much more than play with Grell's memory. Unintentionally, this person achieved the result they needed, making the shinigami forget about his true nature, but by more sever means."

"Severe?" Ronald gulped.

"You see, you will never be able to bring back Grell Sutcliff because even though the memories return they disappear as quickly."

"Why?" William asked tensely.

"Because he's becoming a human," the Undertaker replied with a creepy smile.

**FR**

_There was a fire. A city burning and he watched it, loving every lick of flames to beautiful buildings. _

_The picture changed as if someone turned the kaleidoscope upside down. The reds of the fire were the same but instead of black they were surrounded by green of trees. A small village house among a garden. And for the first time during a dream Grell felt scared. A concentrated fear ran through his veins, making his heart beat impossibly fast and his head spin. He knew what was happening in that house, but no, did not want to see it. Not again. Not ever again._

**FR**

"Human."

"Yes, human," the Undertaker nodded. "A plain human."

"Because someone attempted to erase his memories of being a shinigami."

"Exactly."

"The memories will disappear again," Ronald interfered.

"Yes, surpassed by his human memories."

"By human you mean…?" Despite the dread he was feeling William managed to make it sound calm.

"Memories of his human life. Before he became a shinigami. Memories of his death." The Undertaker didn't even try to hide his excitement this time. "I wonder how it happened."

**FR**

_Grell took one hesitant step towards the house, then another, and then his feet were moving on their own accord and he was running into the fire. He heard female screams along with gruff laughter of their murders. This was __the memory he wanted to forget, if he ever could. But it seemed it'd haunt him through all his life, whichever that life would be._

_He was trembling and his hand clutched the red chainsaw that accompanied him in all the dreams but only in this one it was absolutely useless. Grell stood on threshold of the burning house, knowing that if he entered he'd be assaulted by the smells of burning and blood, by colors red and bright yellow. He'd see the scariest and also the last memory of his life. It was a memory of death. His death. And he thought he was going insane, because Grell knew he was dreaming and knew what he was dreaming about was real, but he was alive. How can he dream about dying?_

**FR**

"So, it's practically two conflicting minds fighting in his head?" William asked.

"Well, it would have been a fight if we didn't know which side would win. But as it is it's nothing more than a quarrel." The Undertaker explained, turning away from the other two shinigami and picking up discarded books. For him this conversation was over.

"What do we do?" Ronald called out while the silver haired shinigami didn't leave.

"Wait and hope he won't go insane with all those memories of bloodshed."

"But what about his appearance?" William inquired, his tone distant and cold as he tried to pretend they were not talking about Grell. No, it was some other shinigami they knew nothing about and had never met, not someone who William had only realized was dear to him. "He still looks like a shinigami."

Red hair and yellow green eyes were not a common sight for a human, but for a shinigami it was almost normal. Almost, because everyone knew that Grell Sutcliff had never been 'normal'.

"Oh, it will pass, don't worry. Soon enough he'd be just a nondescript human. I doubt that he'll even remember you if you visit him again, Ronald."

And with that the Undertaker left, humming a tune under his breath, not caring that he had just ruined all hope for only two people who called themselves friends of the Grell Sutcliff. William and Ronald just watched him go hopelessly.

**FR**

_There was no other way. He had to enter into the heat of the house enveloped in the fire. He took a step inside and was deafened by an __animalistic__ scream. Heartbreaking, grieving and turning angry, furious and then murderous…it was he who was screaming. _

Grell gasped for air as he shot up in his bed, covers falling in disarray to the floor. His heartbeat was wild and erratic, breathing quick and heavy. His blown pupils moved fleetingly over the room, not able to stay on one item for long. Grell brought one trembling hand to his heart, taking deep calming breaths. But it didn't help and deep breaths turned into quick intakes of breath as tears escaped his eyes and he started sobbing uncontrollably.

Never had a dream affected him this much. And a fact that he _knew_ that what he saw had actually happened to him spread a feeling of dread right to the core of his being. After a few minutes, when he managed to regain control of his body, Grell stood up to the open window. The sun had just set, which was reasonable because he went to sleep early, and a light cool wind refreshed his senses and helped him to calm down.

With both hands, more steadily this time, he wiped left tears from his face, ran one hand through his hair and took another long breath. With that Grell turned around and fell back on the bed. He was sure he wasn't going to be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

**FR**

In the morning there was a knock on Grell's door again and he opened it with less caution this time. Ronald's smiling face was a greeting enough as well as package of pastries he brought with him.

As Grell prepared tea Ronald took a moment to study his friend. The evening before when he was leaving the Shinigami library with the thoughts, small hints of conversations they had running in his mind, the Undertaker's calm voice bringing a hurricane of emotions into Ronald's heart. Grell was his friend, the one who helped him with advice, acting as a mentor for the blond when the later had just joined the department. During the night all the information settled in, leaving Ronald tired and sad. The prospect of loosing a friend was awful but it seemed inevitable. Though against the Undertaker's words Grell still remembered him, he only had to ask for Ronald's name a couple of times.

In the light of morning sun all the changes in Grell became obvious. His bright red hair was not just dull as Ronald thought at first, they were reddish brown, a color close to the one Grell wore to disguise himself as a human butler. Eye color was closer to normal as well, but not quite yet. Teeth were still pointy and sharp, peeping from under his upper lip every time he was ranting excitedly. But over everything he looked tired.

"You do not look well," Ronald commented as he settled on the chair.

Grell hesitated in pouring tea, the blond wasn't sure if a tremor that shook his hand was real with how quick it appeared and passed.

"Couldn't sleep," the ex-shinigami answered and handed Ronald a cup. "You do not look at your best either."

"Same reason," the blond replied, looking his friend from head to toe one time and then turning to his cup.

Grell was changing. His appearance and even his attitude. Ronald missed the loudness and obnoxiousness, dramatic gestures such as flicking his hair back or putting one hand to his forehead when the red head wanted to exaggerate whatever nonsense he was saying. Most of the time that nonsense concerned William, or sometimes maybe that demon but Ronald had never seen them together so he couldn't assert that.

This calm quiet Grell wasn't Grell at all. Ronald lowered his eyes, half listening to what the other was saying and decided that he should visit the Undertaker again. There had to be way to help his friend.

"How about a walk?" Ronald asked returning from his dark thoughts.

There was a moment of hesitation, only noticeable because the blond was watching his friend for a reaction. He remembered how Grell denied the offer the first time, looking alert and scared at the perspective of going out. This time he was more confident as he answered evenly:

"Yes, why not."

Ronald expected to see Grell scared of every passer by, holding onto his friend, terrified of the world outside his small flat. Obviously the blond had picked up a habit of being overdramatic from Grell, because the reality was very far from what he imagined. Grell was calm and curious as if it was the first time he came to London. The blond justified it by a thought that most his trips to the city were work-related, or murder-related, which was the same most of the time.

"Oh, I love this park!" Grell exclaimed, walking a little ahead of the blond. He threw his hands in the air as his eyes took in the scenery. It was nice to see the color return to his face as a light healthy pink dusted his cheeks.

"It's a lovely place," Ronald replied as cheerfully looking around as well.

"Ronald," Grell's anxious voice called from the right.

The blond turned immediately, worried by the tone of his friend's voice, but everything seemed fine. The ex-shinigami's eyes were glued to a person who was crossing the park, walking an alley perpendicular to the one they took. The person looked familiar but the heavy feeling Ronald got from just looking at that man told him he had never crossed paths with him, for which he was thankful. He had an aura of danger around him.

"It's…it's..." Grell stuttered. He seemed unable to find the right words.

"Who?" Ronald inquired standing beside him and looking at the stranger.

"That man! He's the one who…I can't remember the name." Grell turned to his friend, pleading green eyes asking for a reminder he could not give.

"Will!" Grell suddenly shouted and Ronald realized why the stranger seemed familiar. He really did resemble his boss a lot. "William!"

The passer by turned around and his cold golden eyes measured Grell through square lenses of his glasses.

"No," the ex-shinigami mumbled and took a step back realizing his mistake.

"Sorry!" Ronald shouted but there was not need in that because the stranger was already walking away.

The rest of the walk they spent in relative silence.

**FR**

It was already dark when William returned to his office. After the visit to the Undertaker he took care of work related issues, reaping souls and reprimanding a duet of trainees who managed to screw up a simplest task. He couldn't stop himself in time before he realized that he was comparing them to a certain red haired nuisance. Grell was an idiot, but William couldn't call him stupid without cringing. When it came to understanding human nature the red head suddenly showed a skill of insight not inherent to any other shinigami William knew.

It seemed to him that lately whenever he was left alone William was remembering all flaws of Grell Sutcliff and, almost unconsciously, turning them into his benefits, small special features of character to treasure and speak of with fondness.

If there was something William T. Spears was not perfect in it was the relations between people. From his scanty knowledge of the subject he was aware that his constant inability to think of anything or anyone else was a thing that tended happen between lovers. But he and Grell were nothing like that.

Or was it actually like the saying goes? He did not treasure Grell until he lost him?

William got up from his desk and came up to the door to lock it. After that he took off his jacket and put it on the back of his chair. Glancing around the office, the dark haired shinigami took off his glasses as well and put them down on a small table by the leather sofa, which stood in the office for the comfort of the visitors. He slumped on it comfortably, throwing one hand on the arm rest and loosening black tie with the other. He felt defeated by a force he did not know he was fighting.

Now in the semi darkness and complete quiet of his office William could admit that Grell was important. His presence _mattered_. His whining and shouting was the most entertaining occurrence during William's workday, and seeing how the man did not have weekends that was a lot. Grell was painting Will's dull life in bright colors. Even a memory of the red haired shinigami was enough to bring a small note of a pleasurable insanity, distracting from loads of work and lonely evenings.

William relaxed on the sofa, closing his eyes while his imagination wondered back to the fights he had with his red haired colleague. Well, it was Grell who did most of the fighting, William just stood, towering over the other man pretending to listen all the complaints. If he was in a hurry he interrupted Grell immediately with a strict remark or if he had some free time on his hands he let the red head ramble and delivered his remark in the end of the tirade.

He wanted to talk to Grell. But was it still possible? After everything that the Undertaker told them that day, it seemed they'd never see the Grell they knew again. And William wanted it right now like he had never wanted anything in his life.

William made a decision and quickly stood up, grabbing his jacket he made his way out.

**FR**

The cool night air was refreshing to his skin which was a welcome comfort to William's troubled mind. Sometimes simple walks could be nice. The dark haired shinigami had visited Grell's flat earlier in the evening, but it was empty so there was no point in staying there and he decided to take a walk while his mind progressed a sight of bare walls and cold floor of a small room; there was nothing to indicate that a person lived there. Grell didn't have any personal possessions to make it look more lived-in and even his presence there was barely traceable.

In time, probably, it would become cluttered and full of colorful useless things Grell loved to collect. He'll go on with his life as a human. A shinigami's existence would be just a fairy tail from a far away country for him. William wondered if the red haired man would become more calm and reasonable with years, less reckless probably…he was turning human after all. Mortal.

William took a turn for a less crowded street and glanced at the people around him. Very soon Grell would be just like them, without any guess of what he used to be.

* * *

**A/N: **I hope it's not very confusing but the last memories are a mixture of Grell's human memories, his death to be precise, and his shinigami memories.

Please, leave a review. Let me know what you think about this story:)


	4. To Die – to Live

**A/N: **I know I've already said it a couple of times, but to make it clear: in one of my older stories I fantasized about Grell's past. In that story I used the idea that some human's after death become shinigami. So before he died Grell lived with his family of three sisters and his mother. This should explain some of the Grell's **flashbacks** in this chapter.

I thank those readers who commented on the previous chapter. And also those who added my story to their favourites and story alerts, though you know every author wants to get reviews as well;)

* * *

_**Chapter 4**_

_**To Die – to Live.**_

It was two days since Grell had last seen Ronald; the air headed blond probably had loads of work and was too busy to visit. Grell was bored, he didn't want to go out when there was no one he could excitedly talk to, pointing out beautiful or ugly attires of the noblemen, speaking so loudly that it attracted attention of people on the streets. Ronald was a good company, and he also was the only company Grell had. He thought so many times about how had his life been before the accident that made him loose his memories. Of course there were those visions of blood soaked rooms and bodies of women disfigured so badly it was impossible to tell one from another, there were flashes of fire and so many deaths, quick and painless, tortured and agonizing. But there should have been something apart from that, shouldn't it? If those were his memories, did it mean his whole life consisted of murder? It didn't scare him, did not bother at all, but it did sadden Grell. Because then his life must have been so lonely…

Grell didn't want to be lonely, he wanted to have someone by his side. Just to speak to, to listen to, to touch and be touched in return.

His room, though with so little space, was so empty. He liked it at night more, because when the light of the sun wasn't illuminating every corner, mercilessly killing all the shadows, Grell could pretend he wasn't alone in the room. Every person probably would be terrified at the idea that someone was hiding in the darkness but not him. He liked it.

Grell looked around the room again, loving the way bands of pale moonlight crossed bands of warm yellow light of the street lights on the floor. Wind caused the curtains to whip back and forth, the sound – a lulling whisper to Grell's mind. He rolled onto his back, too lazy to undress and get under the cover even though he was feeling sleepy already. He wished he would not be alone…

**FR**

William's mind was screeching, questioning his sanity what the hell was he doing, standing there under the window of Grell's room with full intention to enter. He wanted to talk to the ex-shinigami, needed to see him. That was so out of character for him. The worst part though was that he fully understood that and still stayed there, gathering his courage.

The Undertaker had said that Grell, without his memories of soul reaping was turning human. There was a very high probability that if William visited him it would be such a fleeting meeting that he'd forget about it by the morning. Ronald also claimed that even though he saw Grell almost every day the other had troubles with memory, which were caused by a fact that meeting other shinigami the red head was acquainted with, was bringing back memories of his shinigami life, but those were quickly suppressed by human nature.

Those were just excuses, William understood. Excuses that helped him talk himself into seeing Grell.

Entering from the window was far from polite, but it was easier for him and also added a touch of mystery to this visit. He secretly hoped that Grell would take it as a surreal dream.

A second later he was on the windowsill, squinting to see inside the dimly lit room. He jumped down noiselessly and his gaze was immediately driven to the left, where the bed stood. A vague shape laid there and bright eyes stared back at him. William suddenly remembered how Ronald described the way Grell's eyes were loosing color, changing to a bottle green, more common for humans, but at that moment two yellow green orbs shone brighter than the light of a candle they reflected. It was beautiful and a little scary, sending excited shiver down William's spine. He turned bodily so he would fully face the figure on the bed. He stood and waited while the figure stretched lazily, not bothered at all by a stranger in a room, and half-sat, gathering covers around themselves. A pale hand extended in his direction and then patted on the spot near Grell on the bed. William complied without asking any questions and perched on the corner carefully.

"So, why are you here?" Grell asked curiously, the tone of his voice too calm for the situation.

"You are not going to ask me who I am first?" William counter-asked as calmly.

"I know who you are," the man replied in a voice of a child proud of his knowledge. "I remember you."

"You do?" The dark haired shinigami asked with cold skepticism, he wasn't sure in his decision to come here any more.

Grell moved, leaning on both hands to get closer to William, and studied the other's face. His gaze flew over the dark haired man's features, recognizing or maybe memorizing. The invasion of personal space was undeniable and William drove back as a habit, leaning on the wall, willing his body to relax. As soon as he moved a light of the candle on the bedside table illuminated Grell's figure, his face, pale but without those awful scratches, hair falling into his eyes. Only then did the shinigami saw what Ronald was constantly wining about. Grell's hair were not magnificent red any more, dull brown strands fell over his shoulders, almost the same color as his waistcoat. It made William's heart clench painfully as it brought a realization that Grell _was _changing. They talked about it so many times with Ronald and the Undertaker but only now it became real. _Grell was human._

"Kind of," the ex-shinigami murmured, answering William's question. His right hand lifted and traced dark haired man's cheekbone, slowly going higher up and stumbling over the rim of black glasses. A sense of déjà vu washed over him as Grell took off the glasses carefully, almost the same way he did it on the night he lost his memory. Now though instead of keeping them to himself he put the glasses on the bedside table, soon they were joined by Grell's own ones.

Grell's hands rested on his face. As an answering gesture William gently took a strand of brown hair, resting on the other's shoulder, caressing it between his fingertips.

"I remember you. Everything is a little blurry, but I remember. Better now when you are right in front of me," Grell's eyes bore into his with intensity.

"Good," William said, putting a stand of hair behind Grell's ear. It felt nice. "Maybe you even know my name."

He smirked as Grell's eyes clouded, mind returning back to the past in search of that small detail.

"Will," he answered with a smirk of his own.

"William," the dark haired man corrected.

Grell shook his head, making his hair fall out of place again; a smirk transformed into a small smile. With a chance to study that face up close William decided the other man was attractive, but with a life buzzing in his yellow green eyes and red hair flying around a face adorned with an insane smile Grell was beautiful. With regret the dark haired shinigami stated that that image was lost forever.

"William sounds too formal," Grell chastised, breaking in the middle of the other man's thoughts. "I like Will more."

William rolled his eyes as he always did when his red haired subordinate said something stupid, which was, unfortunately, every second thing that left his mouth.

"Are you going to answer my first question?" Grell asked leaning closer to William, resting his weight on a hand near other man's thigh. "Why did you come?"

"I wanted to see how you were doing," William replied calmly. Despite their position he wasn't feeling uncomfortable with Grell so close, a move forward and the other man would be half leaning on his lap.

The ex-shinigami chuckled and nodded as if the words made much sense to him. After that he whispered:

"So, what do you think? Am I doing _good_?" It was scary how one moment Grell was a complete stranger and the other he turned into the little flamboyant nuisance William knew so well. Constant flirting was the most annoying feature of the red haired shinigami, and it seemed nothing, even a memory loss, could change that.

"You tell me."

With a dramatic sigh Grell collapsed onto William and after a minute of wiggling got comfortable, lying on his back with his head on the other man's lap. Brown long hair was sprawled all over William's black trousers, red coat covered Grell's body as a blanket, he was relaxed and calm, staring up at the ceiling.

"Do you have friends?" He asked suddenly as his eyes refocused on William.

"No." The dark haired shinigami wasn't sure if his relationship with Ronald could be considered as friendship. The closest person to a friend he had ever had was probably Grell Sutcliff, but that did not bother him. William lived for his work. Until the madness with Grell loosing his memory had started, the dark haired shinigami had not even for a moment thought about the lack of social interaction in his life.

"Don't you ever feel lonely?" Grell's quiet voice inquired.

William didn't answer. The question was too complicated to fit in the answer of a one simple word. He tried not to think about it during long work nights, when he was the only one left in the office.

"_I_ do," the ex-shinigami admitted, he sounded almost meek.

William's gaze slid from the grey wall ahead to a face of the man on his knees. Grell was looking back at him, serious and tired. He reached with one hand and tugged on William's tie, loosening it, then unbuttoned first two buttons of the white shirt of the shinigami. Satisfied with the result he threw both hands over his head so they dangled from the edge of the bed.

"I do get lonely. A lot," Grell repeated. "Ronald comes to visit sometimes and that nice policeman came to see if I was coping, but it's not enough…You know? I want someone to be with me all the time, if not in body then at least in mind. I'm tired of unfulfilled promises and meetings that never happen. You understand?"

The last question was delivered with worry, as if it was essential that William understood Grell. The dark haired shinigami nodded, in a strange twisted way it made sense.

"I probably want what most people call _love_." Grell whispered the last word, as if afraid to taint its sacral meaning by saying it aloud. "Have you ever felt it?"

"I don't think so," William replied truthfully. He wasn't sure in his own feelings at that moment. Being in a half-dark room with only one candle to illuminate his interlocutor felt beautifully confusing, heady appealing.

"I don't think I have as well. But I think I might. Sometime."

Grell's eyes stared without blinking at William, so intense, so alive with emotions. It was a captivating sight; William wouldn't be able to turn away even if his life depended on it. Probably in some sense, it did. It was so obvious that for William it'd be better to get up and leave; this talk whatever it'd end with would be destructive for him.

"But I want even more than that. Am I not greedy?" Grell asked with a teasing smile that showed off his teeth a bit. It came as a cruel reminding of the reality for William, because Grell's teeth were not sharp and pointy but almost normal.

"What do you want then?"

"I want to be adored," the man replied, his lips stretching into an impossibly wide grin and eyes shining in the dark.

William considered his words silently. Yes, it was so much like Grell to wish for passion and love and adoration all in one. He wanted to be swept off his feet by a hurricane of feelings. All of them for only one person. A person who'd love him with the same crazy devotion.

"Don't _you _want it?" Grell mumbled and turned on his side, right hand clutching the fabric of William's trousers.

The dark haired shinigami did not reply, to answer right now was too much for him. He just watched as Grell yawned tiredly and his eyes drooped while he waited for what William would say. The silence stretched, neither of them breaking it.

"Don't you?" The ex-shinigami repeated barely audibly and his clutch on William's trousers weakened. He had fallen asleep.

William sat unmoving and just watched him. Grell changed but at the same time he stayed faithful to his own self. The dark haired man gently put away a strand of brown hair covering half of the other's face, his fingers sliding over cold skin in process.

There was no use in staying, William reminded himself. He had talked to Grell and now when the other was soundly asleep he should leave. Finally listening to a voice of reason the dark haired man carefully maneuvered the other's head so it rested on the pillow and stood up from the bed carefully as not to wake him.

Standing by the bed he couldn't help but to throw one last glance at the man. Grell looked exhausted and so far from a lively shinigami William remembered, it was impossible to believe he was the same being. But that did not mean he still wasn't beautiful, at least not to William.

Deciding that he was already so far gone that nothing would destroy him further William leaned over the sleeping form of Grell and quickly but very gently pressed his lips to Grell's. Unresponsive, cold and chapped they still felt wonderful. Moving back William let his hand linger on the side of the other's face. When the contact was broken he exited the room the same way he entered, reminding himself Grell probably wouldn't remember him by morning.

**FR**

The smell of wood was dominating in the workshop. Rows of freshly made coffins took almost all the space, and had Ronald been a human he'd have felt very uncomfortable standing in the middle, surrounded by them.

"Well, what is the purpose of your visit?" Breathless voice of the Undertaker was heard and the man's head appeared from behind one of the coffins. He was still laughing at the joke the blond had told him, something the other shinigami promised would be just perfect. Personally Ronald thought it's was more stupid than funny, but his opinion didn't matter.

"I came to talk about Grell. Again."

"I think I told you everything the first time," the Undertaker replied, leaning heavily on the coffin and getting up.

"I need…more." Ronald hesitated in the middle but his resolve returned quickly when he remembered his friend. "I need to know a way to help him."

"If you want to find a cure," the silver haired man prolonged the last word. "There is none."

"But there must be something! Anything!" Ronald objected, taking a step to the Undertaker but bumping into the coffin on his way. He looked down at it angrily.

"There is no way to fight the effects of whatever was done to him."

"But he can't stay human! It's not right," Ronald insisted with passion. He was clutching his hands at his sides, stressed and desperate to find an answer.

The Undertaker regarded him with interest, head falling on one side. He pursed his lips thoughtfully and then pointed one black-painted finger at the blond.

"You have to decide what you want first," he replied. "Do you want to reverse the effects or do you want him to become a shinigami again?"

"Anything," Ronald answered.

"Well first is impossible," the Undertaker mused. "The second is very unlikely."

"Unlikely but not impossible?" The blond caught the hint. "He can become a shinigami again."

The Undertaker nodded slowly, watching the younger man.

"How?" Ronald asked so quietly it was barely audible, the tension made his throat contract almost painfully as he gulped waiting for the answer.

Undertaker's serious voice resonated in the quietness of the workshop:

"There is only one way to become a shinigami. And you already know it."

**FR**

It was already evening, the sun about to set, but the heat of the day still lingered in the air. The day had been warm, too warm at some point, and even hidden from the sunlight in his room Grell felt suffocated. There was no wind to bring relief, the white curtains did not stir and from time to time Grell grabbed the right corner of the curtain and flopped it just to create some resemblance to a small wind. Staying indoors was becoming impossible.

By the end of the day, when there was no sunlight to heat up the earth, the long awaited cool still did not come. A decision that a walk could do some good seemed illogical since it involved moving, which Grell wasn't fond of during the day, but he couldn't stand being inside this flat for any longer.

The city was still full of people buzzing around, all so busy. Only Grell wandered the streets aimlessly, hoping to escape the pressing heat. He was starting to feel sick. As he took a new turn a low roar of thunder was heard from afar, making the ex-shinigami smile. Finally something good was going to happen. Rain and thunderstorms would be more then welcome after days of sunny weather.

**FR**

William stood in the middle of an empty room. Succumbing to the strong desire to see Grell again, he went there the moment he got a chance to escape his office. Practically he was breaking the code, because it was his night shift and he had to be reaping souls. Anxiousness mixed with excitement of ignoring his work for the first time in centuries instantly turned into worry as he crossed the windowsill and looked around the room in search for the ex-shinigami. Grell was not there.

**FR**

Ronald knocked on the door, three sharp bangs betraying his nervous condition, and waited for Grell to open the door. After a second the door was swung open sharply but not by the occupant of the room.

"William?" The blond asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Where is Grell?" The dark haired shinigami ignored the question addressed to him and stepped out of the flat, closing the door after.

"Not inside?"

"No." William replied impatiently. Wasn't it already obvious? "Where is he?"

"I don't know." Ronald answered. "He might have just gone for a walk. I'm sure there is nothing to worry about…"

The blond tried to persuade his boss even though he himself wasn't confident in his words. An unfathomable worry was making him want to run outside and just rush around the streets of London in search of Grell. William was looking at him, contemplating.

"Of course," he agreed reluctantly. "Nothing to worry about. Better get back to work then."

"It's my night off," Ronald admitted. "I'll probably just wait for Grell here."

William nodded in acknowledgment, silently agreeing that it'd be a good idea. He stepped away from the door, letting the blond pass. In process the dark haired shinigami took a book with names of the ones whose souls he had to take that nigh from the breast pocket of his jacket.

"Good luck with your work." Ronald commented and opened the door.

William nodded in thanks, not caring if the other had seen the gesture or not, he was already in his working mood, listing the book, looking for a right page. Ronald eyed him, smiling slightly in admiration to his boss's dedication to soul reaping. Then the blond turned around, as he was about to close the door to Grell's flat William's voice called out to him.

"Ronald!" It was said in a loud tense tone, which made the blond turn immediately and look in William's suddenly pale face. With his eyes alone he asked what the other wanted, but the dark haired shinigami just took a step to him, showing him the book.

A name of Grell Sutcliff was written in it at the top of the list.

**FR**

Rain had started half an hour ago, bringing a chill Grell longed for for a whole day. Thunder was heard occasionally, but obviously it was roaming the other side of the city and probably would not reach this until morning. The ex-shinigami was sitting at the side of now completely empty road, starring at the water running over bricks of the roadway, mixing with dirt.

Grell clutched his head between his hands, while his elbows rested on his knees. Even the rain could not bring relief to a terrible headache that started as he exited the park and stepped into a smaller alley to avoid the crowd. It hurt so much, he felt like his mind was being torn in two. The sounds of the storm attacked his pain-sharpened senses and he desperately tried to block out the sound. Cold water ran down his spine, soaking through to wet his red coat and white shirt, but it was nice and cooling. His brown hair was plastered to his forehead and fell into his eyes, as a curtain between him and the world of blinding lightning.

His mind was full of images, reality and dreams meshed together and mixing to a point where it was impossible to tell one from another. His eyes saw a city being drowned in heavy rainfall but in his thoughts the same city was burning in a wild fire, a picture so real that it felt like the raindrops were in fact spurts of flame touching his skin, burning it.

He looked at the ground and the running water turned crimson, flows of blood gathering under his feet. A bolt of lightning arched across the sky, and for a moment he was sure that in the sky lit in white light he had seen a figure of and angel fighting a man. They disappeared as quickly as they appeared, replaced by a figure of a beautiful woman all dressed in red. She was saying something, tears running down her cheeks. Grell was torn between wanting to comfort her and needing to pierce her heart as a punishment for a moment of weakness. His hands twitched, letting go of wet hair, and he reached for something…something that should always be with him. An object, dear to him, incredibly important.

He stood up slowly, an action taking too much effort and his legs trembled as he took one step and stopped unable to continue. His eyes didn't leave the figure in red, which stood beautiful, untouched by the rain. He blinked and she was already leaning over a corpse of a young woman sprawled on the pavement in a pool of her own blood. The picture was mesmerizing, woman in red so passionate in her own perfect murder, but then she turned and Grell thought she had noticed him. But no, she was looking up at the roof of the building, terrified of being caught. Grell took two shaking steps to her but she already disappeared replaced by another figure: a lost and scared girl. Grell knew her from a life where the woman in red never existed. He reached to the girl, a look of helpless horror on her pretty face bringing up only fear in him. She needed his help, she was important; he loved her with all his heart and tenderness. The girl was his family.

Grell stumbled over the stones of the road, almost falling on his face, but spreading his arms he managed to catch balance. When he lifted his eyes back to the girl, she was joined by two more. They were screaming but he didn't hear a sound.

Grell's breath was ragged; he could barely breathe through his fear. They needed his help and he was absolutely useless.

"No!" He shouted the only word on his mind. And suddenly the word around him, a mixture of London's streets and grim buildings with village scenery between them, titled and swayed and he was surrounded by the fire. He could feel neither rain nor the tears running down his face.

**FR**

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Ronald asked doubtfully as they appeared on the street very much the same like many others.

"Yes," William snapped, looking around, eyes searching for the ex-shinigami. "This address is in the book. He must be here. Or he soon will be."

Ronald nodded and walked ahead. It was good that the book provided all the information needed to find the soul the shinigami had to take, but it'd be so much better if Grell's name had not appeared in it at all. His eye caught a lonely figure in the middle of the road and even though the outline was blurry he knew it was Grell, everyone else was hiding from the storm indoors.

"William!" He called to the other shinigami while running to his friend.

Grell made an awful sight. He was wet to the core, clothes clinging to his skinny frame, brown hair, a shade darker from the rain, half covered his face and fell over his shoulder in one messy cascade. He was kneeling on the ground, a gaze of desperate green eyes fixed on a thin air while he mouthed something, pale from the cold lips repeating one word over and over.

"Grell!" It was the dark haired shinigami who shouted but it had no effect.

"What's happening to him?" Ronald asked as he watched Grell attempt to stand up but fail and fall back to his knees.

"This must be what the Undertaker predicted: his human memories conflicting with memories of his shinigami life. His mind can't take it." William wasn't able to continue, he didn't want to be the one to announce Grell's fate. The figure before them was so weak and vulnerable, it made William's heart ache.

"Grell," he called again softly, just merely heard over the rain.

The ex-shinigami lifted his eyes and glanced at them. It was a good sign that he recognized their presence, but he still didn't recognize _them_. He looked at them with scared eyes of a victim, pupils dilated and running from one shinigami to another.

"I'm Ronald, remember? And this is William," the blond introduced, imitating William's soft tone and approached slowly, cautious not to scare the other off.

Grell gulped, eyes fixed on the blond now, but still not letting the dark haired man escape his line of vision; but he did not bolt, nor did he react violently. He just sat there and waited for what the blond would do next.

"Remember us?" Ronald repeated and when the ex-shinigami gave a small nod, smiled at his friend. "Good. Come on. Get up."

Ronald stood in front of him, with William just a step behind, and extended a hand for Grell to take. But the ex-shinigami shook his head.

"Why are you here?" He asked with a slight tremor in his voice, but in other aspects he seemed fine. It looked like the moment of madness had passed when his mind had something to concentrate on.

"To help you," William replied, he stood beside Ronald now. "Just let us."

And with that the dark haired shinigami got down on one knee before Grell. He offered a hand which the other took tentatively. Grell's pale long fingers were icy cold and his hand was shaking as William carefully closed his fingers over it.

"I can't understand…what is going on." The ex-shinigami whispered. "There is so many of them, different, contradicting."

"Memories?" Ronald asked, he sounded defeated.

Grell nodded, his fingers clutched William's hand painfully.

"William," Ronald started saying and when he got a nod of acknowledgment from the man he continued. "The Undertaker said that there is only one way to become a shinigami."

William didn't answer but Ronald could see the way his shoulders tensed, he understood what that implied. The dark haired man reached with his left hand to hold the side of Grell's face, putting aside wet strands of brown hair and warming frozen skin.

"This is not an option."

"There is no other option," Ronald could not believe he was saying that.

Grell watched their interaction with interest, hoping they'd know a way to help him, to rid him from the feeling of sickness and of the unbearable migraine tormenting him even now. He watched the dark haired man who stared back at him. William…Will…Grell gasped as a new wave of memories assaulted his mind, all them including this stranger. The moment it started those memories were swept by other images. And it hurt. Hurt so much he could not cope anymore, let alone focus on the conversation between the two.

"Help me," he pleaded. "Please."

"William-" Ronald was about to plead as well but the dark haired man beaten him to it.

"We can not do this!" William snapped, turning away from Grell to glare at the blond.

"It's in the book. No matter what we do he'd die."

"But we can't kill him!"

"It is the only way to become a shinigami! To die!"

They both were shouting, there was nothing left from the ever composed William and always cheerful Ronald.

"There is no guarantee that he'd become one."

"He'd go insane otherwise." Ronald protested, even though he didn't want to do this as much as William. "It's a risk but…"

But it can bring us back Grell Sutcliff. It hung in the air between them. Their general desire. Selfish wish to bring that man back.

"Please," Grell's weak voice repeated. "Do it. Kill me."

The other two turned in stunned silence. They weren't aware that Grell was listening their conversation, that he was straining to hear and understand because no matter the price he wanted the pain and confusion gone. Be it death or something else, he could not care anymore.

"Kill me," he said steadily, staring intently in William's eyes.

The dark haired shinigami let go of him reluctantly and slowly, never breaking eye contact stood up. He shook his head and took a step back. The denial only angered Grell.

"You are pathetic," he sneered, fury taking over his heart. "Just do it."

"I can't."

"Kill me."

"Grell…"

"Kill me!"

They stared at each other in silence. Then Grell threw his head back, a hysterical laughter felling the street, resonating from the walls and returning to join the original sound. When he looked back, the expression on his face was a mixture of determination and anger.

"Kill-"

He didn't get to finish because in that second a death scythe pierced his heart. William gripped his weapon tightly, determined not to show how badly his hands were shaking, while he watched Grell's blood bathing his scythe. Surprise was etched across Grell's features, eyes open wide, but a tentative smile lifted the corners of his mouth as he fell back on the pavement.

William let go of the weapon letting it fall with a clattering sound. Both he and Ronald, glued to their spots, terrified to come closer, watched the blood flow from the wound on Grell's chest. Crimson created a pattern as it ran in streams between bricks of the roadway, mixing with rain. The deep red of the blood soaked in the brown hair, coloring it.

The two shinigami waited. Grell struggled for his last breath, it seemed like he wanted to say something but his body wasn't listening to him any more.

William watched him, not sure if he had a right to kneel near his sprawled form and maybe hold his already impossibly cold hand after what he had done. But in the next moment the cinematic records appeared and easily finding the right memory William saw what had happened to Grell that made him loose memory.

_A dark alley ending in a dead end. Late cloudy evening, the moonlight blocked by the clouds. Two figures in the alley, two voices interacting. One excited and overly loud, bordering on screeching, proclaiming admiration. Another – cold and uninterested, still polite but with a dangerous edge to it. Grell Sutcliff and Sebastian__Michaelis._

_The demon was carrying a large suitcase on his back and obviously was trying to avoid whatever conversation Grell wanted to start. The shinigami, oblivious as ever continued his questions, prevented sometimes by his own admiring exclamations. He seemed very interested in the contents of the suitcase. Sebastian's frown was enough indication that the demon didn't like the probing. At some line crassly thrown by Grell the demon sprinted into action, jumping in the air and onto the roof of the nearest building, probably deciding that the red head was not worth the trouble of fighting him. _

_Grell frowned at his actions and not wasting a second followed him, hitting Sebastian in the mid jump and making the demon land back in the alley. This was a start of the fight. They attacked each other, Grell hitting the demon in the chest then jumping away as the other swung his arm to get hold of him. Grell turned on the spot, ready to deliver a spectacular punch but Sebastian caught his hair and yanked, making the other stumble. The red head fell but was back on his feet quickly, but did not have time to duck as the demon lashed out, right hand going for Grell's face. When the demon stepped aside there was a long cut, decorating Grell's left cheek. _

"_Your behavior is becoming too troublesome for me." And he reached for Grell again, not giving the man any time to get ready for the next attack, grabbed the other by the forehead. After a minute Grell fell to the ground unconscious._

William tore his eyes from the memory replaying before him. There was no place for worry in his heart at the moment as he looked in Grell's pale face, his lifeless broken figure. The only sound was the rain as Ronald and William waited.


	5. A Kiss of Death

**A/N:** And for the last time in this story I'm saying **thank you to all reviewers**! Every new comment made me a little happier.

* * *

_**Chapter 5**_

_**A Kiss of Death**_

Thunder rumbled on the outskirts of London, the storm was leaving the city. Rain still fell heavily though, no one still dared to step outside without a risk of getting drenched in seconds. It was quiet apart from the sound of rain hitting the pavement in a steady, monotonous rhythm.

Ronald and William stood in a middle of a street, lonely figures illuminated by weak streetlight. Both of them, ignorant to the rain watched the body lying in between. Grell Sutcliff was dead, killed by William T. Spears.

William couldn't lift his gaze to meat Ronald's eyes; he stared down at the body of Grell. Watched listlessly as blood continued to ooze from the wound on his chest, a pattern of a red rose appearing on his dark brown waistcoat and white shirt. Grell might have found it beautiful, a fleeting thought passed in William's head. But he only thought it was revolting. Never before had death made him feel so sick.

Crimson soaked into his brown hair turning it red as well, a stunning saturated color – just the way it had to be. William watched the way Grell's hair changed, from the roots to the tips, followed with his eyes the path of color's distribution. And suddenly the histrionics of it stroke him as odd. Should it be like that? The blood was flowing from under the unmoving body, quickly washed away by the rain to a nearest drain; by any sense it should not reach Grell's hair like that.

Not daring to hope, William came closer to the body, mindful not to step into streams of blood, and got on one knee near the ex-shinigami's head. Almost not breathing he reached with one hand and turned Grell's face so that he was facing William. The dark haired man gently ran the pads of his fingers over Grell's cheek stopping over his lips and waiting for a feeling of breath under his fingers. None came. William quickly returned his hand to its position on Grell's cheek, not wanting to feel any more crushed hope.

"His hair is red," Ronald commented, finally catching up with William's train of thought. "Really red."

The wonder in his voice made William second guess his own thoughts. But Grell was not breathing…with the rain it was hard to tell, but sure William would have felt something, even the tiniest exhalation? He tore his eyes from those lips and eyed Grell's face. His heart stopped.

The eyelashes, color a darkest shade of crimson, trembled ever so slightly, movement so small it was easily missed.

And William's heartbeat accelerated to an impossible speed.

Eyelashes trembled and the eyelids opened with an effort. Bright yellow green eyes stared back at William.

"Will…" A weak voice called out, hoarse and faint.

"William," the dark haired shinigami corrected automatically, but smiled despite his words.

The red haired shinigami answered with a smile of his own, wide grin full of sharp teeth.

**FR**

Ronal Knox strolled down the corridor of his department, very much irritated and only a slightest bit angry. For the last couple of days he had to work overtime, and if you asked Ronald what he hated the most – his immediate answer would be 'Working overtime'. But after Grell returned, and mind you the blond was very happy to have his friend back even though he cursed his laziness every minute, Ronald's amount of work increased exponentially since then. Grell was too lazy to do assignments he deemed 'boring' and, Ronald thought cringing, he spent an alarming amount of time in William's office. No one dared to try and find out what they were doing there, even though the whole department was very curious. Ronald had his suspicious but decided to keep them to himself.

When Grell woke up, in the middle of a street in the darkness under the pouring rain, so weak he wasn't able to stand properly, Ronald felt relieved and happy, he couldn't stop smiling as he watched how William helped the red haired shinigami up, particularly holding all his weight while he draped one hand over the other man's waist and dragged him up. Grell was grinning all the time even when his knees buckled, too weak to hold him up, and he encircled William's neck with both arms. Later Ronald decided that this move was practiced long before and was performed with graceful ease. When Grell' body was particularly draped around William, which the red head claimed was a necessity so he would not fall down, they exchanged happy smiles, words of gratitude and 'How nice to see you back'. After that William disappeared, taking Grell with him, leaving Ronald alone. But the heavy rain didn't feel so unpleasant anymore and he was smiling all the way to his home.

That was almost a week ago and things went back to normal pretty quickly. Other shinigami just concluded that Grell became too interested in yet another murderer and followed him around or maybe found himself a yet another object of admiration and eternal love; he had disappeared for longer periods of time before that. William wrote another report, taking care of the official side of things. Life was good again for Grell Sutcliff. But not for Ronald Knox.

First days Ronald was happy to help Grell with work, taking some of his assignments because the red haired shinigami complained that he was not feeling well. But after a few days it became obvious that he was just using this as an excuse to push all his work on Ronald, because really, when an over excited man skips along the corridors of the department and upon reaching his boss' door happily and very loudly announces his arrival there is no way you'd believe he is still in a weakened state. When the blond suggested that maybe his friend could take care of his own work already, Grell exclaimed that as a younger and more inexperienced shinigami Ronald needed practice and so the red haired man graciously allowed him to take care of Grell's remaining case, which as well could be called all Grell's cases, because the red haired shinigami had not done any work at all since he returned.

And so, after yet another day of working overtime, Ronald was fed up with such predicament. He strolled angrily down the empty corridor (most of his co-workers already left), his final destination – the office of his boss William T. Spears.

Upon reaching the door Ronald grabbed the handle and pushed the door open with force. Full of righteous anger he-

He frozen barely haven stepped over the threshold. And cursed his foolishness. And wished that he was blind so that he would not have to witness _this_. He lowered his eyes to the desk quickly, his gaze falling on a pair of glasses, black ones and red ones lying side by side on the desk top. Then, curiosity taking over, Ronald lifted his gaze.

There was William in his chair behind the desk, that was fine. What was out of ordinary though was Grell sitting on William's lap, straddling him. Grell's hands were buried in the dark hair, messing it, gripping and tugging almost unconsciously. William's hand disappeared under the folds of the red haired shinigami's coat, constantly in motion, sliding over the skin of Grell's back under his untagged shirt. Soft sighs and moans filled the room as the couple continued kissing, oblivious to Ronald presence. Better if it stays that way, the blond decided and retreated quickly but very quietly, closing the door on his way out.

Probably it'd be better to talk to them in the morning, Ronald concluded and left.

The couple continued on, too engrossed in each other to pay attention to anything else.

_**The End**_

_**

* * *

**_**A/N: **Good buy. I hope to see you all in another story:)_**  
**_


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